Retirement
by Beingextremelycleveruphere
Summary: The Doctor is done and ready to retire. This is the story of the sad man on a cloud: "Where will you go?" Vastra stood and watched the Timelord retreat, going back into the room where the TARDIS stood. The Doctor placed his key in the lock and paused. Where would he go? "Oh...in the clouds."


**Retirement. **

Space rarely felt lonely to the Doctor. How could one be lonely when surrounded by so much; vast nebulae and throngs of stars? A multitude of planets and bodies just drifting and existing and living in harmony. And all the people, and things and events that were happening all around, that he got to witness in every time or place at the flick of a switch or the adjustment of a dial.

But, as the TARDIS made it's tumbling way through the Vortex, with it's bright light bulb glowing amongst colourful infinities, the Doctor had never felt more alone. He stood, cutting a solitary figure in a great expanse of a console room. The bronze walls and lights were dimmed as if the old box herself knew the emotions that sank the two hearts that lived in the Timelord's chest. Inside the blue box was a lost man, circling through time and running away.

Ever running away.

This time it was from the Sunlight worlds, still intact and thriving, and thawed from Dalek control and saved. The old engines heaved as the adventure; that crazy dream of events he had participated in washed over him. Another story that most would not believe. But who was there to tell? And was it a good story?

Things could so easily have gone the other way. Billions could have died.

The Doctor suddenly felt cold inside, the victory hollow as his thoughts turned to all those he had lost during his long years, his long life...had it been worth it? All those bright and shining companions. All his friends.

"No more meddling." He said aloud, to no one. "No more." And he set his way around the console, free of the usual dance and hyper-isms and instead he was clinical, pressing what needed to be pressed, pulling levers setting the coordinates he needed to go to. He wanted to hide, he wanted to be forgotten. No UNIT to pull him back in, no alien world he had visited before. He wanted to disappear.

The TARDIS landed with a sorrowful clunk and the time rotor stilled, the box aware of her Thief and his emotions, his...intentions. He was done. The Doctor stepped out of the blue box. It's paint was scuffed and worn, as if he no longer cared for looks or pride. Green eyes darted about the empty Victorian parlor. Already he was doubting his presence here; should he had come? Would anyone wish to have their lives tainted by his presence anymore?

The travels he had endured since New York had been distractions. River had left him, with a promise of the next encounter that had never arrived. It was a while before he could admit to himself that he didn't want her to come around. She was gone to him anyway; dead from the moment he had met her in that library. Everything ends. He was a stupid, selfish man. Always had been, but he could not bare it any longer. The hatred he had for himself had come back full force in the times he stepped from his box, the misery and pain from his Ponds' departure ripped through him.

His fault. His pain.

The Doctor wavered on the lip of his box, almost as if he were afraid to fully leave the confines of his box, lest he hurt someone else. He wanted to run away. But what had running away brought him? Now was the time to stay. Stay in the shadows and never step out again. He closed his eyes, and a tear slipped out from it's confines, the reserved, ancient man showing long held in grief. Grief he could not run from any longer.

"-Oh." A voice let out, rippled with Cockney derivation, and the Doctor's head snapped up to see Jenny Flint. She was donned in her maid's uniform, obviously startled by the Doctor's appearance. The last time he had appeared on their carpet was to call in a favor, it was for help against Demon's Run. Another failure on his part.

"Sorry." He apologised immediately in a quiet voice. Jenny wanted to tell him that it was okay. He had only startled her, but the pain in his eyes somehow made it impossible to speak. Something had happened in the Timelord's life. A refined voice sounded from the hall way.

"Jenny, dear, whatever is the-" The voice was soon followed by the grand figure of Madame Vastra, her veil shed and cast away, as she removed her gloves as well. She was in a dark, stereotypical Victorian dress, in purple hues and black bustle ruffles. Her eyes betrayed the shock she felt at seeing her old friend parked on the rug, and her faltering of voice told of her reaction to his image, of his empty acts. For that was what it was; like the energy had been sapped from the seemingly young man so that his age was betrayed quite severely. Something was wrong. "Jenny...leave us."

The Doctor's eyes softened slightly at the appearance of the Silurian. The pain of the Ponds was fresh in his mind as he looked upon his comrade at Demon's Run, and friend. He couldn't travel any more. He couldn't. "I need a place to stay for a while."

Madame Vastra sighed, bowing her head ever so slightly and giving him a sympathetic look as her gaze flitted towards the box, and her sympathy grew as the once resplendent blue was mottled and faded, covered in dust and grime from distant worlds and wars. "You are more than welcome to stay a while here, old friend." She spoke, tone hushed, as if not wishing to scare the fragile Timelord off.. "Tea and biscuits in the drawing room." She paused, Vastra almost wishing to hear the futile asking after Jammie Dodgers, though they were unable to be found in this era. "If you don't mind me saying you look rather worn."

He lowered his gaze from the lizard woman's afraid of judgement, and afraid of looking weak. Afraid he was giving in. But he wanted to give in. He wanted to shut himself away. So he came to his friends…or what was left of his friends. The Doctor gave a small nod of thanks to Vastra before striding away as per her directions, finding himself in a quaint and impeccably kept drawing room. He instantly took a biscuit, as if he were a mere beggar who had not eaten for weeks and crossed to the sofa, to sit like a petulant child; knees drawn together, the biscuit held in his hands as he looked at it like a lump of lead. "…thank you. And I don't know, it may be a while. I don't…quite know what to do with myself." He looked up sharply to Vastra, a blaze of determination coming through dead depths of green. "But I'm retiring. I'm stopping, Vastra. For good."

"Doctor—-" She started but the man was already to lost and far gone for any questions. He was far not only emotionally but physically, even if the man was only a few feet away he still had cages that enclosed him from all around, only letting small peaks through the bars of his eyes. The lizard wasn't quite sure on how to approach the subject, thinking better not to but let him come to her, she waited, sitting herself in her wicker chair and crossing her legs. The man before her wasn't the Doctor she'd come to known but the man she'd heard of, dangerous and unpredictable in his uncertain state. He'd lost them, she thought. His Ponds. Amelia and Rory, perhaps Professor Song as well. Good people, however briefly they had been acquainted, she could tell their hearts were worthy of the pain that their friend was currently in.

"No." He would not have his intentions questioned. He didn't need that or want it. His mind was made up so it would be fruitless. Might as well save the Silurian some breath. "I shall retire, and I shall be...alone." The word fell like a weight from his lips; final and heavy. For that was what was best, for all. No more bright and shining companions that he took and squeezed the light from till there was nothing but ash. He looked up from clenched hands in a shaking lap to the window. Through gauzy lace curtains was the bustling street of Paternoster Row, with families and workers and horses drawing their carts and ferrying gentlemen and gentlewomen to their perfect, ordinary lives. His lost stare dimmed once bright and curious eyes till only hard truth remained in green depths. "I _am_ alone."

She felt a soft pang in her heart at his honest words, only to be pierced by his lost stare. "No, Doctor you are not." She said firmly. She'd lost many, and for all her life up here, her sisters and brothers lay beneath her feet in slumber, so she was no stranger to being lost in sorrow. "You, my dear friend, need to stop running from yourself." She spoke, rising from her chair so she stood tall in front of the man. "Stay here, by all means. But I need you to do one thing. I need you to accept."

He paused at the words, trying to discern the meaning. Running from himself? He wasn't running from himself. He was walking away. His tongue met the inside of his cheek as he mulled it over, his mouth dry and silent till he questioned her.

"Accept what?" The Doctor finally met her gaze.

"Accept that they are gone." Vastra replied simply. "Now, Doctor, I do not pretend to know what you have gone through, nor do I expect you to tell me." She had known him too long to think the Doctor would open up in his present state of hurt; he was, in his mind, alone, and his walls were up as they usually were. No one stayed for him, and surely she knew some pain of that, she could reason with that. "But to leave you in such distress would be a terrible thing. Stay the night."

"I don't want impose." He told her, bitingly cold, face hardening at the idea of company. The only reason he was here was to...he didn't know. He did not know why he had come, surely he could hide away with nobody. But as much as he loathed to admit it, he was no solitary creature, and even all those eons ago he had left his planet with Susan. The Doctor was defined by his companions, by his friendships. Alone he was...lost, and in the dark. But now, that was the way he wished it.

"You came here for a reason." Vastra replied, logic on her side.

"I came to hide away, Vastra, to not hurt people." And surely if he agreed to this, if his resolve wobbled and tipped, it was to shatter. "I'm not getting involved."

"I am not asking you to." Vastra reasoned, and the Doctor looked away in scorn. But Vastra pressed on, though the Doctor wished to hear none of it. Any form of attachment would only lead to certain trouble. Even dinner. Even the night. He couldn't get...attached. He could not do that anymore. "Just stay for dinner. Jenny has prepared a lovely meal and there is plenty to go around."

"I won't have another fault on my conscious." The words seemed odd as a response, but Vastra understood. The Doctor wiped a hand over his worn face, removing his glasses and pocketing them. Everything had a slight blur now, as if in a dream, and the Doctor took comfort from it with a sigh.

"Doctor. It was not your fault." The Doctor looked away, for he couldn't look into the eyes of the lizard woman any longer. His mind screamed at her to shut up. It was all lies, all of it. Not his fault? It was all his fault. All of it, every second every moment of his travels, what happened to the people he traveled with- that was his fault. Guilt bubbled over to anger once more as he fought the urge to turn tail and run. His skin crawled. He did not need this. This kindness. It was not for him. With a flourish he stood up and clasped his hands together in a well practiced habit; guarded, and ready to leave.

"I think I will skip the meal. I need to go." He stammered, waving a cautious hand. The Doctor didn't want anymore pitying requests for his company.

"Where will you go?" Vastra stood and watched the Timelord retreat, going back into the room where the TARDIS stood. She followed in her swathes of taffeta and bustle. The Doctor placed his key in the lock and paused. Where would he go? He had no house, and a police box, despite owning a perception filter, had little place in Victorian London. The last time he did something like this, it had been a junkyard. Perhaps he could get a better view this time. With a whisper of a smile and glint in those eyes, he turned to Vastra.

"Oh...in the clouds." He replied simply, before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

"Doctor?" Vastra asked after him, confused by his choice of words, but the bulb flashed and a whir gave out as the sad man in the blue box, disappeared. Vastra shook her head and turned, placing her veil once more over her face, and went into her hallway, to catch Strax with Jenny's sherbet fancies.

* * *

** So, whether I continue this or not is up to you guys and your response. If you have any suggestions and stuff, that'd be cool. I've just always been fascinated by his retirement and how that came to pass...so, yeah. **

**PLEASE REVIEW! xxx**


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